


Pale Queen

by JeckParadox



Series: Worm AUs [8]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games), Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Alt-Power Taylor Hebert, Bugs & Insects, Gen, Prophetic Visions, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27276196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeckParadox/pseuds/JeckParadox
Summary: In the locker, Taylor transforms into a wyrm. A being able to look into the future, and with the ability to grant sapience to bugs. Her foresight tells her of what will happen in the future, and what must be done to save the world. So she sets out to raise an army of bugs, an army of believers, and do it. Although Brockton Bay isn't going to like it.A Hollow Knight/Worm Crossover.
Series: Worm AUs [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1132409
Comments: 45
Kudos: 252





	1. Prologue

**||||**  
**\ /**  
V

It was so incredibly dark, and foul-smelling, and filthy on my skin, and then, _abruptly_ , it wasn’t. In possibly the worst way possible. It wasn’t dark, because I was glowing. It didn’t stink, instead smelling… not _good_ , exactly, but not repugnant anymore. The maggots certainly didn’t mind it. It wasn’t filthy on my skin, because now I was covered in armor.  
  
I… wasn’t human any more. I twisted around on myself, turning my gaze on myself. I was a snake. Or at least, serpentine. Worm-like.  
  
I open my mouth to speak, and all that comes out are… rasping sounds.  
  
Like dozens of whispers piled on top of each other. I try harder, to speak louder, concentrating on my words, but I just can’t make a voice that sounds anything like a person.  
  
What happened to me?!  
  
I stay there for a few seconds, simply staring at my own form, before I feel a flash of something- an image of someone opening the door, the janitor, and seeing me and screaming. Trying to hit me. I fight back- and then he’s dead.  
  
I need to get out. I should have been trying to get out anyway. Just because whatever happened to me made my current situation _feel_ less disgusting doesn’t mean it isn’t a breeding ground for germs and maggots. I push against the metal of the door, and I find it gives way almost immediately, metal buckling against my side. Experimentally, I turn my head towards the door, and open my mouth. I can feel my… teeth? Teeth. I can feel my teeth against the metal, and with just a slight push, I puncture it. I close my mouth, and take a bite out of the metal. On the other side is blinding bright light.  
  
I spit out the chunk of twisted metal, and slither out of my prison. After a quick check of myself, I find that I’m very, _very_ long. Maybe ten feet or so. But I’m not very thick around. Considering the size of the actual locks on the locker… my head was maybe three or four inches tall?  
  
God.  
  
What would Dad say if he could see me? Could he even recognize me? How am I going to even communicate with him?  
  
I see another image, of my new body resting on the couch- he walks in, and… I’ve made a sign, by poking holes in a rock with my teeth, very, very carefully. I AM TAYLOR TRANSFORMED. After that… shouting, picking me up, putting me in the car, and then people in costumes everywhere.  
  
I end up in a glass tank. I talk through an agonizingly slow sensors that types out letters based on how I move my teeth. Dad is miserable. I’m miserable.  
  
I don’t want that.  
  
I can’t stay here, either, images of people finding me and screaming flashing through my mind after hanging around for too long. Am I seeing the future? Possible futures?  
  
I get moving, letting the images guide me. Going out through the front door is a negative. I can’t use the handles. I can eat through the wall no problem though. It draws attention, my trail is able to be traced because of it. A camera? People in costumes find me. Tank. Miserable.  
  
I slither through the school, sticking to the space beneath the lockers, staying as out of view as I can manage.  
  
An image tells me gym locker room has a drain in one of the showers that’s been rusting away. I can bite through that, no problem, and nobody finds it suspicious- it actually gets it replaced faster than it would have been.  
  
I slide down it, through the pipes, and let my images guide me to the sewer proper. My body is the only light visible, and it makes everything glow almost in black and white.  
  
It’s there that I see an image of something… beautiful. A sprawling city, clinging to the walls, with bridges and even tramways over the running water, houses lit with bio-luminescence clinging to the walls. And the people were good. Hard-working, kindhearted, loyal and loving and always improving themselves, making their beloved city more beautiful-  
  
The people were bugs.  
  
They _were_ bugs.  
  
I… I made the bugs into people. Just by being here. I’m doing it _right now_. I don’t have any control of that.  
  
I slithered forwards, and watched as the cockroaches scattered. I focused on one of them, and let the images come. I see her change. She stands on two legs, her body becomes less oblong, and more streamlined, almost humanoid. She eventually makes armor, and is given a weapon. She becomes a soldier of the city, protecting it from other intelligent bugs. Ones that… _aren’t_ as loyal to me. She has a home, and a pet- some kind of fly, turns out not _all_ bugs are granted sentience, just some -that she loves. She has a wife, some kind of moth? I think? And they adopted a beetle child.  
  
She lives in this city for more than a decade. She becomes a grandma. And then she dies defending a group of bug travelers entering the city from a rat.  
  
The images stop, then, and I’m at a complete loss for words by the sheer implications.  
  
I don’t make it happen, I don’t control it. Just… everything my light shines on, will change. Has already changed. And while some of them serve me of their own free will- I don't just have automatic command. I need to convince them.  
  
For a moment, I stare back at the pipe I came out of, feeling a sudden urge to return to the locker and kill every maggot that was in there with me, only to be horrified by that thought the next moment. All those maggots will become people. Tiny, tiny maggot people.  
  
I… have no idea what I’m supposed to do next.  
  
In that image, in that cockroach’s house, was a symbol in a place of honor in her living room. A long line, tipped with teeth almost like a crown.  
  
She _worshiped_ me.  
  
Do I just stay here? Take responsibility for the people I’ve created, the civilization they’ll become? I could limit the number of bugs that are exposed to my light, and limit the number that are changed.  
  
The images come- and I watch them for what might be hours, trying to learn as much as I can about the city that will appear before. I see myself sitting coiled in a large temple, the heart of the city, cared for and respected by the bugs I’ve given sentience, and for… maybe twenty years, the city just grows and grows peacefully. Covering this tunnel, and reaching out into others. But then it’s all destroyed in a massive flash of light or an earthquake.  
  
Occasionally, people in costumes burst in only a year or two down the line, and take a massive flamethrower to the whole thing, and following that is the familiar image of the tank, and me sitting inside it, miserable.  
  
Sometimes, a flood occurs, just months away from now, that wipes out everything I’ve built- but in this one, at least, I survive, and I’m able to build a second kingdom, a bigger one- in… the ruins of Brockton Bay. The flood is caused by Leviathan. No matter how many images I sort through, in a few months, there’s always Leviathan. Sometimes his arrival destroys Winslow in the process, sometimes it doesn’t. If it doesn’t, my city is allowed to exist basically without even noticing the catastrophe above besides the water running through the sewer getting a bit higher than normal, and the amount of human waste decreasing. When he does destroy Winslow, the tunnels are flooded.  
  
I need to tell someone. Even if I have to end up in the tank.  
  
Actually... Is there a way to tell someone _without_ ending up in the tank?  
  
I watch the images pass me by, and while I can’t smile with my fanged maw, I smile inside. That future doesn’t seem too bad.  
  
But what about the light and the earthquakes? Further on?  
  
I see those images pass me by, and that feeling shifts to despair. That can’t be the end of _everything_ , can it? The entire planet exploding?  
  
How do I stop _that?_  
  
More images.  
  
That… that will be less fun. But I’ll do it. I always wanted to be a hero. That meant making sacrifices. Taking risks. It meant being brave, it meant changing things. And to save the world, there was no cost too great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork is from fly-sky-high on Tumblr.   
> https://fly-sky-high-hollow-knight.tumblr.com/post/633324033231994880/day-28-pale


	2. Sewer 1.0

I slither along one tunnel after another, letting my light shine freely across them. The filth in the water and clinging to the walls don't bother me, despite how gross it must be. Everything just slides cleanly off my shell, leaving me pristine the moment I slither away.  
  
Right now, I was marking out what would soon be considered something of a central road. An interconnected passage of sewer tunnels and pipes that cut question mark shape through the city in one long, unbroken stretch. From my starting position under Winslow, I went Northeast, cutting underneath some of the suburbs, the Trainyards, and some of the Docks, until I reached a drainage pipe that I followed into the swampy Boat Graveyard. I followed the coast for a bit, then entered in through another drainage pipe, and cut back into the Docks, eventually reaching under my own neighborhood, and then going almost straight South into downtown. I found something interesting connected to the sewers there, after all.  
  
The entire trek took me several hours, and once I was done, I started slithering my way back the way I came, stopping every few minutes under the occasional electric light to scratch an arrow pointing towards Downtown, where I was planning on making the 'heart' of my civilization.   
  
And yes, that was the right word for it. I was going to make a _civilization_.  
  
The plan to save the world is a relatively simple one, all things considered. The first step was to build an entire civilization of intelligent bugs underneath Brockton Bay. The second step was to prevent that civilization from being destroyed by humans, whether the gangs or the Protectorate or a very, very dedicated fumigator. The third step was to create a certain weapon. The fourth to prevent my city from being destroyed by Leviathan. The fifth and final step was to lead an army of bugs against Scion, successfully trap him long enough to put a certain bug armed with that yet-to-be-created weapon right in front of him, and have that bug rip him apart from the inside of his own mind.   
  
It _could_ be done. I could foresee it.   
  
But it would be a lot of hard work. And a lot of things could go wrong. But as far as I could tell, it was just about the only hope our planet had left. I could foresee plenty of other ways the battle could go- massive battles where Capes from across half a dozen different realities join forces and throw themselves en masse at him, only to get themselves and the Earth blasted apart before they could deal a final blow.   
  
And even in the few images I could see where Scion _was_ defeated by that assault, it wasn't without horrific cost. Scars across the faces of various planet Earths. Billions dead.   
  
My method was the best. Or at least, it was the best I could foresee right now.   
  
I stop under a light and mark out another arrow pointing towards the docks, when I find something that wasn't there before- tiny silver cocoons. I inch closer to one of them, scaring away a rat that had been sniffing at it, and focus on it. I saw a humanoid fuzzy filter fly emerge from it, meeting with some of his fellows and... having a bewildered and amazed discussion for the first time in their lives.   
  
Internally smiling, I slip back into the water, and continue my path.   
  
Once I reach the sewer under my own neighborhood, I stop, coil up, and deviate from my path, going up to the wall, and biting through the concrete and metal without trouble. I begin gnawing my way into the dirt, and then chew my way straight up, emerging just where I plotted to be- behind the bushes in my back yard.   
  
Part of me was tempted to try and contact Dad right now, but looking ahead didn't show me a future that different from the last one. He would carry me to the PRT building, and they would lock me up in something tinkered to withstand my teeth, and not let me leave. Looking deeper into that reality, I see that I'm going to have a lot of problems with the PRT going forwards. I think Piggot has a _thing_ about creatures made by Parahumans, and me setting all this up in her back yard is wriggling all over her trauma buttons.   
  
Which... makes me feel bad for her, obviously. But I'm not going to leave the city just because she thinks that I'm gross. Besides, even in another city, the PRT isn't going to just stand by and let an 'infestation' of para-bugs take hold. I might as well stay where I am.   
  
I turn around and head back into the tunnel I carved, slithering back out into the sewer. I would have my reunion with Dad eventually, just not in this shape. Besides, it will be easier to talk to him when I can actually talk myself.   
  
I return to my trip back, and find the silver cocoons more and more plentiful- and also find myself having to scare off more and more rats as I go, and I realize they're likely going to end up becoming something of a major problem too. Almost as much as the PRT. A few more hours pass, and I return back to that first stretch of sewer under Winslow. Part of me wants to keep going the opposite way, stretch it even farther past this point, but at the same time, I've already got a lot of room to cover.   
  
Maybe sometime in the future. There are mountains, covered in forests, to the West of Brockton Bay. That's a lot of resources with far fewer eyes on them.   
  
But for now, I focus on the task ahead of me.   
  
I scare away more rats, and then settle down at the edge of the sewer pipe. I bite into the side, and start chewing my way into the concrete and earth behind the metal, creating a space large enough to fit the entirety of my worm-like body inside of it. Once I've pulled my whole mass into the opening, I turn back around, and plug the hole with my face.   
  
This will be the resting spot for my worm body. All of the bugs I've turned are in their cocoons, and it's about time for me to enter my own.   
  
When I came out, I'd be even smaller than I am now. But I'd have several other advantages. Hands, a humanoid body, the ability to speak. Not having to worry about accidentally crushing my tiny people. Along with something that was... a bit unclear in my visions. I think the power to make things disappear?  
  
The transformation would have its costs, too. My foresight wouldn't be as strong, requiring concentration and effort rather than the easy flow of potential futures I could process now. But I couldn't lead the bugs as a worm- they'd be as unable to understand me any more than a human could. And, of course, while my new body wouldn't exactly be fragile, it won't be as physically powerful as the one I have now. No chewing through steel without issue any more for me.   
  
I closed my eyes, and focused on the next step. The glow constantly emanating from my body receded, concentrating at a point deeper inside of me. All sensations from my body began to fade, and for the second time, I transformed inside of a dark, metal-encased foul-smelling hole.


	3. Sewer 1.1

When I woke up, it was to darkness. I found a kind of fluid was surrounding my body, and for the first time since I changed in the locker, I felt a bit grossed out. I guess that would be another downside I hadn't considered. I reached upwards, pushing at my shell with my hands until I felt it begin to give out.  
  
Then, I accidentally tipped my head forwards, and the giant spikes growing out of my head shatter it. Whoops.  
  
I tip all the way out and end up on my ass. It's... kind of hard to balance, actually. I'm a little top-heavy. I get to my feet, and shiver in the cold I can now feel- the cold the bugs are probably feeling, too. It is January, even if Brockton Bay tends towards warm winters.  
  
I shake out my arms, my legs, and my head- and then my wings. Oh!  
  
I turn my head enough to see them, and shake them out behind me. They're kind of small, but... I take a leap, spread them, catch the air, and let them lift me up- before I drop back down to the ground again with a small thud. Not very strong, though. Maybe I'll grow into them?  
  
I start walking down what used to be my throat, up and up the coiled passageways, until I reach my former mouth. I look out over the sewer, with the nearest bit of electric light some distance away, the only light illuminating the cavern was my own. I leap out, spread my wings, and glide a ways down to the sewer wall, sliding slightly in the grime. Yeah... if we're going to live here, I'm going to have to order a thorough, repeated, cleaning of this place. _Ongoing_ cleaning.  
  
I was getting shivers down my spine.  
  
I make my way down, closer to the nearest cocoon, and try to call up an image- only to not have it come. I can't just see this bug's entire life play out before me like a highlight reel anymore. I sit down, concentrating- the light around me concentrates, growing brighter, and I begin to see images fade in.  
  
A cockroach, different from the last one I saw. This one... becomes a soldier of mine. He does because when he came out of his cocoon, he saw me standing over him and... felt inspired.  
  
I wait, then, until the shell begins to crack open, and take the hand that pushes through it. I pull him out, and then step back as he uses his other arm to shield his eyes. "What..?" he asks.  
  
"Welcome to the world." I say, before looking to the side, and walking to the next cocoon. Without anything better to do, he follows me hesitantly. This one breaks as well, and I pull the fuzzy form of the filter fly out, her antenna brushing against the shell of my face as she looks up at me. I help her step out, and move on to the next.  
  
There were hundreds of them, maybe more than a thousand just in this stretch of sewer alone. How many hundreds of thousands more throughout the rest of the tunnel?  
  
I pull more and more out, and after a few seconds, the cockroach and filter fly share a look, and start helping as well. Along with more members of their species there were also moths, snails, maggots, and the occasional beetle. All of them with brand new humanoid bodies, expressive faces, and a mind that was for the first time taking in their surroundings with more than just instinct. More joined in the first two in helping others, gathering them up in a group, following me.  
  
Some of the moths spread out their wings, taking to the air and helping down those who stuck to the ceilings and walls on the opposite side of the river that cuts through the center of the tunnel.  
  
It's a magical moment. Already, I think I'm getting attached. These are their first moments with sapience, and the very first thing they see are bugs helping bugs, and so the very first thing they do with intelligent thought is join in and help too. None of these creatures are social ones. They don't have any drive to help their fellow bugs. This is all purely learning by copying, with maybe a bit of human compassion.  
  
I'm the center of attention due to my living light bulb nature, but I let them have a period of adjustment before I say anything, letting them get their bearings when it came to their new mode of life. A few of them took unbalanced steps, not used to the way their bodies were now shaped, but just like I did, they get used to it relatively quickly. Eventually, though, I jump into the air, and then flash out my wings, getting even higher, drawing the attention of just about every bug there.  
  
"Hello." I say, "I'm sure you're all confused." I begin, "But don't worry, this is a good thing. My light- whatever bugs I shine it on, change. Become more intelligent. I've shone my light in the building above us," I say, pointing towards the top of the tunnel, "And down these tunnels." I say, pointing into the depths that still sparkled with fragments of cocoons, "We're the only intelligent bugs in the world. And we need to stay together, so that we can protect each other, and help each other."  
  
I look around, seeing the crowd begin to murmur and talk among themselves. That first cockroach who I helped looks around for a bit, before turning towards me and making his way through the crowd, shielding his eyes, "What... what do you need us to do?" he asked.  
  
"...First," I say, "We need to get supplies."  
  
"Supplies?"  
  
I gesture to the cocoons deeper in the tunnel, only visible by the tiny glittering of their lights, "I think the more light you're exposed to, the faster you'll change." I explain, "I spent the most time right here, so you bugs are the first ones to hatch, and hatched fastest. But eventually, all of the cocoons down the path will hatch, and I want bugs waiting for them, to help them and guide them towards our headquarters, which I'm planning to be at the end of the path."  
  
"Why do we need supplies for that, can't we walk?" a maggot asked.  
  
"Because it's going to be a long, long distance. And we're more intelligent now. You don't have to walk everywhere, we can use tools to help us." I look upwards, "Above us is a building called Winslow. It's a school, for humans, which means it has lots of different kinds of supplies." I look out over the crowd, "Stuff like food, weapons, and materials to build with."  
  
As I look back down, I notice a _large_ number of heads and antenna perk up at the mention of food. And interest in weapons as well.  
  
"There are rats and amphibians, and even ordinary bugs that can't be transformed." I say, "Most of you are bigger and stronger, and smarter, than when you were ordinary bugs. But those things will _still_ be dangerous to us. We want to be prepared going forwards. We'll also probably want to act quickly. There should be other bugs who've been exposed to the light up there, and will probably hatch soon if they haven't already. We want to bring them with us."  
  
I look towards the cockroach, and he straightens up slightly, walking towards me, "I'll go!" he turned behind him, "Anyone else want first pick of food and weapons?" For the most part, I see that the moths, snails, and filter-flies aren't interested, and the maggots too afraid to volunteer, but the roaches and beetles, however, seemed eager at the thought.  
  
I begin leading the way around a corner, past more cocoons that haven't yet opened up, and see a pipe with a slow, constant waterfall leading off of it. "That... was not there when I came out of it." I said to myself, frowning. Was someone _using_ the gross shower with the missing drain? I wouldn't have been brave enough for that. But then I realized that all the water from the showers was probably coming out right now. Maybe from other pipes across the school as well. I didn't really need to worry about water in my big worm form.  
  
"Well." I say, frowning, "We'll have to find another way in."


	4. Sewer 1.2

"...The next closest way would mean going up and out of a storm drain." I say, opening my eyes and sitting back up, feeling the relief of not having to grip onto the future, "But that would mean going across the snow above, and climbing into an open window."   
  
"Snow... doesn't agree with me." said one of the group.   
  
I nod, "We'll have to make other preparations." while the food and materials are definitely enticing, and what I'm using to motivate them, what I'm more worried about at this point are the bugs I transformed while heading out of the school. The ones that stayed behind in the locker, unfortunately, were a lost cause. I didn't see the police come and wash things out- that had happened in the past -but I _did_ see the cocoons stuck inside bio-hazard bags being incinerated. They were halfway across the city, and... I couldn't foresee a way of getting to them in time.   
  
They never woke up, at least.   
  
But the other bugs, the ones that had chosen to leave the locker after I ripped open the doors, or the ones that had been skittering around in the gym shower room, or in the hallways I passed through, were all still alive and in cocoons up in Winslow. I could still save _them_.   
  
I... felt _awful_ about losing those ones in the locker. I didn't think to check if they would be alright, while I was a worm. But looking forwards- I'm going to lose a lot of bugs. It wasn't a question. They were small, and sensitive to the cold, and while they were relatively more durable than other bugs, a determined rat would still kill the average filter-fly without trouble. I would lose a _lot_ of them, just on the journey alone, and even after I establish myself, I would still lose them occasionally.   
  
That's just how life was.   
  
Sighing, I rub at my face, feeling the hard shell of my head under my slightly softer hands. I open my eyes, and look over at the group watching me cautiously. "Change in plans." I announce, "We're still going up to Winslow, but we'll need to protect ourselves from the cold first."   
  
"...how?" asked a small beetle.  
  
"We'll make ways to keep warm." I say, before looking around, "Everyone, we're going to gather leaves and sticks- the least rotted ones you can find, and bring them to the main tunnel, lay them out under a light, so they can dry out at least a little. While you do, I want you to look for anything artificial. Paper, plastic, metal, glass, and gather that into piles too, under a different light."   
  
As they set off to get to work, I did the same, approaching a storm drain, and climbing up the wall. There, mixed in with the leaves and slush that normally were washed into them, was a filthy mitten. More nylon, I think, than cloth, but the important thing was that it was dark, and warm.   
  
I dragged it down, and began to pull it towards the nearest light. Then, I went towards the main tunnel, where the majority of the hatched bugs were still waiting, talking among themselves in clustered groups mostly based on species, although there was some crossover. I began to approach one of the largest groups of moths, and they turned as one to look at me as I approached. Unlike most bugs, they didn't try to shield their eyes from me, simply staring head-on into the light. But then, moths were kind of famous for their fascination with light.   
  
"Would you be willing to help gather materials?" I asked them, gesturing down the tunnel, where the cockroaches were beginning to pile things up, "We want anything we can build something out of. Leaves, wood, plastic, glass, paper."   
  
"W-we can do this." one of them says, hurrying into the air in a slight shower of scales. More of them take off after it, leaving just one on the ground, who approaches me nervously.  
  
"Um... Miss?" one of them said, "Before I join in, I was wondering about something."   
  
"Okay, what is it?"  
  
"Why were we created?" she asked, hesitating.  
  
"What do you mean, why?"   
  
"You made us, what did you make us for?" she asked, "Is it- just to gather things for you?"   
  
"No- well. No." I frown, considering how much to say. I don't really want to lie, but at the same time, I don't want to scare anyone away. I didn't create them for their own sake. I made the ones up above on accident, and the ones here... partially on accident too. The ones deeper in the tunnels I created to help support my goal of saving the world. But that's a lot to put on bugs, "...I _did_ make you to help me." I said, "But not just in gathering. In all kinds of things. And I'm hoping that by helping me, you'll also be helping yourselves."   
  
"But what _specifically_?" she asked, moving closer to me, "Why _me_?"  
  
"I-"   
  
"I can remember, from when I was smaller, and dumber." she said, "I- this is the _second_ time I came out of a cocoon. I can't remember what came before then, but when I came out of it, I knew I only had one goal- find a male, and then lay my eggs somewhere warm, with enough scum for them to eat." she ran a hand over her head, pulling back her antenna before letting them flick forwards again, "And... and... now I don't want that. At all? And I don't understand why."   
  
"...Before, the only thing you had pushing you forwards was instinct." I say, "You- _were_ an animal. But now you have intelligence, you can think of reasons for things, besides simple urges. I think you may have an entirely different set of instincts now than before regardless."   
  
"But these instincts aren't just... 'to help you'. I want to help, because it seems like it makes sense, and you're very pretty, and have a very nice voice- but that's not... overwhelming. That's not all there is. It's not my purpose."   
  
"I don't think you have an instinctual purpose." I say, "I can control where my light shines, and I can see the future if I try- but mostly I just hope that the bugs will want to be helpful, and that I can convince them if they don't want to be. If you _want_ to help- help. But I don't think I can give you a kind of purpose that overrules everything else."   
  
"I see." she says softly, before looking up at me and smiling, "Thank you." she flutters off, and joins several more of the moths, and then dips down to grab a leaf out of the water.   
  
I'm... going to leave the 'pretty' thing where it is, for now.  
  
I join in on tugging twigs to the piles, checking around storm drains for garbage, and using my light to try and spot anything reflective in the muck. I come back with a few shards of glass from that, with a useful edge on them. And some coins, which would be an excellent source of metal for all kinds of things.  
  
Eventually, the light from the storm drains faded away, and night approached.  
  
I went back to one of the piles of scavenged cloth to see what we had to work with. There were a lot of mismatched mittens, one of those miniature jackets for small dogs, a sock, somehow, a few different kinds of hats...  
  
I went and dragged out one of the mittens, and then took a shard of glass that in my hands was about as large as a sword. I brought the edge against the bottom of one of the fingers, and began to saw through it. Eventually, I pulled it away, and looked at my handiwork. It was like a body sock. I poked a hole about halfway up it through one side and out the other, and then cut another hole on just one side of it slightly higher than that.   
  
Then, I managed to push my head into the opening.   
  
The tips of my horns were caught on the top of it, and I found to my annoyance that the arm holes were too high up, and the face hole a bit too far down, but some aggressive ripping solved those problems.   
  
I... was a bit less cold, now. And this was just step one.   
  
I wandered over to the leaves, and began tearing off pieces of leaf and shoving it into the space between the inside of the sock and my body. When I was done, not only was I actually _warm_ , but I was also no longer blinding. My arms and face were still visible, and shined out light just as intense as ever, but everything else was forced to filter through the leaves and the cloth. I still lit up the area around me, but it was a nightlight glow rather than a floodlight blaze. Bugs didn't have to hide their eyes when they looked at me, anymore.   
  
I search the crowd, and quickly find the first cockroach I woke up, hurrying over to him, "What do you think?" I ask, gesturing to myself.   
  
"Is this to hide your light?"   
  
"It's also to keep me warm." I say, "There should be enough for a large group." I say, "We'll be able to go over the snow. Get the supplies we need, get the food, and save the bugs inside there."


	5. Sewer 1.3

"Do you have a name?"  
  
"Do you?"  
  
I hesitate to answer but eventually say "Yes. But I think I should use a new name from now on." I was a Cape now, after all. Even if a highly unusual one.  
  
"I don't think I have a name." the first cockroach I helped said, "...I could help you think of a new name if you give me one." I helped pull the finger of another mitten over his head and then helped him tear holes for his arms. "What about my wings?"  
  
"I think we'll have to keep those wrapped up for the moment," I say, turning him around and reaching my fingers into the fabric over his face. I begin to pull and create a small rip for him to look out of. Other bugs are doing the same all around me. In fact, they've already made it more efficient. A few moths have taken to cutting the first two or three inches of every finger on every mitten in the pile, and simply handing them over to bugs who've focused their time gathering up shreds of leaves and paper to use as insulation ahead of time.  
  
"And thank you for the offer of the name." I say, "Do you have any ideas?"  
  
"... 'Queen' or 'Boss' comes to mind," he said, "or maybe something about your light? White? Shiny? Pale?"  
  
"I'll think about that," I say, before looking at him. All of the bugs, even if they came from the same species, had a lot of variety in body-type, ranging from short and squat to tall and thin. For cockroaches, he was a medium-sized one, standing with the top of his head at just about the same height as my horns, which I was guessing was at about two inches tall. Some of the cockroaches got to be about three inches. Unlike a lot of the bugs when they transformed, the cockroaches actually tended to be a bit _smaller_ than they were when they were ordinary bugs. "What kind of name would you want?"  
  
"Something tough!" he says, sure of himself.  
  
"...Ferrous?" I offer, "It's like, iron."  
  
"I like it," he says, nodding. He bends down and starts to stuff leaves into his 'cloak'. I move to help another bug fit themselves into their own, before doing a quick count of numbers- I wasn't sure we had enough mittens to cover the rest of the bugs interested in heading up to Winslow, but we'd have a fairly good number, maybe thirty cockroaches and five beetles.  
  
Thirty-six bugs out of around a thousand wasn't a _lot_ , but it was still a decent-sized group. Hopefully enough to carry back all the supplies we want, without requiring a second trip.  
  
Although... even if we couldn't go up the pipe to the showers, we might be able to still use that as a way _down_. If we get the water going, anything that drops down it would be flushed right down to the sewer fairly quickly. Although that would mean getting our nice new cloaks wet.  
  
Once I finish helping the next bug, I move over to a group of filter-flies and moths arranging a pile of dead leaves. They turn as I approach- I'll probably never sneak up on _anybody_ , considering the glow, -and I smile at them. "Do you think you could have a group waiting at that waterfall there?" I ask, pointing towards the one I had tried to climb up earlier. "Once we reach Winslow, we'll be dropping supplies, and probably rescued bugs down that pipe to get them here. If you could be ready to catch them, or at least pull them out of the water, that would really help."  
  
"We can do this," the largest of the filter-flies said.  
  
"Thank you." I began walking the other way, and towards the pipes that would lead to the storm drain I intended to climb out of.  
  
The clothed bugs began to follow me in a steady stream. As we got closer to the entrance, the colder air from outside could be felt more and more. I was grateful for my cloak. And we would be able to create even better ones, once we got to my planned destination.  
  
Home Economics. The room was on the first floor (thankfully) and not too far from the gym, and thus not too far from the showers. It was class all about cooking, sewing, fixing things, etc. And for our purposes, it was a goldmine. Needles for weapons, thread for ropes, fabric for clothes and shelter, food for... well, food, things like Popsicle sticks as building materials, push pins and staples and all kinds of things as potential tools.  
  
It would even have the makings of the boats I wanted. Whenever we made something to eat in class, the teacher would get us these little disposable plastic cups. They served as glasses, as bowls, whatever we needed. They were only a few inches tall and should be wide enough to hold a couple of bugs inside.  
  
If we could somehow tie a bunch of them together, or at least form a train, with bugs placed with long oars or sticks placed every so often it would get us through the sewers quicker than walking would. Those wouldn't fit down the shower drain, though, and would have to go through the storm drain on the street.  
  
But maybe I was getting ahead of myself.  
  
First, we had to make it to the school. I scaled the wall and then went over an edge to reach the pipe connecting directly to the storm drain. The trickle of water had slowed down as it got later in the day, and less snow was melting, but there was still a little bit of a flow as slush melted. Occasionally, a leaf would float down along it, and get carried to the sewer proper.  
  
I helped the first few bugs over the edge, before pushing on and shivering in the crisp outside air. I reached the space directly under the storm drain and stared up at the crescent moon.  
  
Last week, it had been a new moon. How long had passed, since this started? A whole week? Just three days? I was shoved inside the locker on Friday, and transformed before the end of the day. Was today Monday, or later in the week?  
  
I guess I could check a calendar while I was inside Winslow.  
  
The bugs gathering at my side were quiet and almost somber. I could see tiny puffs of steam outside of their face holes. There was steam in front of mine, too. For the first time, I really appreciated the warmth and humidity of the sewer, in comparison to the freezing, too-dry air of the world above.  
  
I was looking forwards to spring.  
  
I began to scale up the wall, heading for the grate. When I reached it, I climbed through the space between bars easily. Two or three of me could have squeezed through simultaneously if we had to.  
  
I stepped out onto the street and saw the outside world from a two-inch perspective for the first time. It... it was mindboggling. Almost nauseating. Looking across the opposite curb on the other side of the road was like looking at the opposite side of a football stadium. It might take me _minutes_ to just walk across the _street_. The traffic light on the corner, relatively speaking, dwarfed any skyscraper in Brockton Bay. And the streetlamp made the Medhall building look like a garbage can.  
  
As I scaled the curb and climbed onto the sidewalk, I saw that Winslow itself just... dominated the horizon. It was colossal. Utterly massive. Walls that just went on and on, up and up.  
  
It sank in, then, just how tiny I was now. A sick feeling settled in my stomach, a kind of reverse-claustrophobia. I wanted something over my head. I wanted to be somewhere enclosed. "Come on." I say, "Let's hurry, not stay in the cold any longer than we need to." I began to walk towards the building, and focused on my own steps. The sidewalk wasn't totally level ground, after all. Filled with small crevices and holes for the concrete to breathe. Some of it was iced over, but those patches were easily avoided.  
  
It took quite a few minutes to reach the building itself, during which I became more grateful to my coat with each passing second, as my unprotected feet got colder and colder. All that, and I think I was having an easier time of it than the other bugs. Yeah, we would _definitely_ be aiming for the shower drain to get back. A hot shower seemed really nice right now.


	6. Sewer 1.4

I reach the edge of the brickwork, finding it a much easier endeavor than scaling up the scum-covered curved sewer walls. And considering I _could_ climb those, that meant it was practically effortless. As I pulled myself over the top, I was relieved to find that, just as my foresight predicted, the window was open a crack.  
  
I moved towards the opening, and put my hand against the screen. The holes were small enough that I could put my fingers through them easily. I squeezed- and sure enough, it warped. With some effort, I began to rip it open, bit by bit. The other bugs began to pull themselves onto the ledge after me, and the first few rushed up to the screen as well, even more desperate in their attempt to get in.  
  
We ripped about a dozen holes in it and squeezed through to the other side. The air was a lot warmer. Still not quite as good as the sewer, but far better than the outside. I looked around the room- a Spanish classroom I've never been in before.  
  
Closing my eyes, I reached out and grasped at the future. What was the best way to reach the showers from here? I saw visions of us heading for an air vent, and climbing up it. I paid attention to the number of breaks in the path, and which way we should turn- before I foresaw our group coming to a halt. Stopped by some kind of... glowing matrix hanging in the middle of the vent. Touching it would just push us back.  
  
Was there a parahuman in the school?  
  
I pushed ahead in the visions, following a wider, more circuitous path- but came to another glowing shield. Even if we spent hours going to the opposite end of the school and trying for the showers the other way, we'd come across more shields.  
  
What if we avoided the air vent entirely? Going through the hallways? I did need to check on any cocoons by the lockers, and we could do that on the way. I see our group going along the path, and finding... no cocoons. None. We don't find any glowing shields either. This had two unfortunate implications. Why would a parahuman block off air vent passageways into the showers, but leave the actual hallways alone? And why would the cocoons be gone? There had to be _some_ bugs in the hallway when I passed. Was there someone who knew about me? Were those shields there to specifically stop bugs from escaping that way?  
  
I began pushing further into the future. What would happen if we went into the locker room? The shower was just as empty of bugs as the rest of the school. At _first_.  
  
Oh.  
  
Oh... that's not pretty.  
  
What's the easiest way to the Home Ec room? Following the air vents. The only shields are clustered around the gym locker room. They'll be easily avoided. And once we get to the room, I know where to look for the materials I want. But just in case... yeah, they're where I'm expecting them to be. Alright.  
  
I let the future slip away and fall to my ass. While I was scanning ahead, the rest of my group had made their way inside, and were already scaling down to the classroom floor. I simply jump off the ledge, despite it being the equivalent of tossing myself off a short skyscraper. With how little I weighed, it didn't matter that much. Especially when I could simply spread my wings before I hit the ground and slow my fall.  
  
As I touch down, I make my way towards the duct on the floor, beckoning the others to follow me.  
  
"Were you looking in the future again?" one of them asked.  
  
"Yes." I said, "Just checking our directions. And seeing if there would be any trouble. There will be."  
  
"What kind of trouble?"  
  
"Some bugs have already hatched from their cocoon," I say, frowning. They must have been from inside the locker, the first ones at least. The others _might_ have started hatching around now, "And they don't know what's going on. But I think they know being discovered by humans was a bad idea, and... they've been making sure nobody has been."  
  
"Isn't that good?"  
  
"Avoiding discovery? Yeah. Absolutely. Collecting and capturing every other type of intelligent bug that woke up to make sure that they weren't discovered either, not as good of an idea." I said, "They'll attack us when we go into the gym locker room. So... we're going to grab weapons first."  
  
The cockroach nodded, "Sounds smart."  
  
I hooked my hands underneath the lip of the vent and waited for other bugs to follow suit. It doesn't take the full thirty-six of us, but it does take about half, considering how rusted and stuck it was. Once we push it up, I lead the way down, trying to ignore the thick layer of dust on everything as well as the dead bugs. They weren't humanoid bugs, just ordinary ones, but they were gross all the same.  
  
"Was this the food you were thinking of?" one of them asks, picking up one of the dry, dusty, bodies.  
  
Apparently, it wasn't an opinion that they shared.  
  
"No," I say, intentionally looking away to hide my expression, "But if you're feeling peckish, go ahead." they were scavengers. It wasn't really my place to judge them for it.  
  
I still almost missed a step when I heard a crunch, followed by chewing, behind me.  
  
I led the way through the maze unerringly, ignoring the occasional strong breeze, and trying to see if I could hear anything else moving around in these more claustrophobic tunnels beside us. The clatter of seventy-two tiny feet on the metal surface echoed strangely.  
  
Eventually, we reached the Home Ec room's air duct, and with even more effort than before, due to our poor positioning, we managed to push it open. "Here we are," I say, looking out over the massive classroom. It was bizarre, seeing the room from this angle. I went to this class every day for an hour and a half last semester. It was familiar, but I've never seen it like this.  
  
I crossed the tile floor, ignoring the way the cockroaches seemed to catch a whiff of something in the air. We baked all kinds of things in this class. Well. Not _me_. I didn't often finish whatever we were supposed to make. Madison and Sophia were in the hour with me, after all. Not as bad as having all three of them- and if I _had_ to have two in a class at the same time, it was probably the least bad combination. Madison's teasing and prodding was almost childish compared to Emma's more direct and personal nastiness, and Sophia hadn't really started getting brave yet, mostly limiting herself to making me stumble over her foot, or giving me little shoves, or just tipping a bowl I was using over. Stuff like that.  
  
I...  
  
I was probably never going to have to deal with the three of them again. Not unless I sought them out for revenge. And I didn't really see myself doing something that evil. I wasn't ever going to have to go to class or be surrounded by people who ignore my suffering and look the other way again.  
  
I fantasized about being a Cape for a long time. I never imagined anything like this. How having powers could change my life. Get me out of Winslow, away from Emma, into the Wards and into Arcadia.  
  
Well. I had powers. And I was getting away from Emma. If I asked, there was even a small chance that I could get into the Wards. I haven't thought to look at what would happen if I went to them now that my appearance changed. Part of me didn't _want_ to look. I sighed, putting my hands against my face and closing my eyes.  
  
I shouldn't be so negative about this. I didn't get the powers I wanted, sure. My life wasn't going the way I wanted, sure. But the powers I did have might just let me save the world. That was one _hell_ of a positive to balance out any bad.  
  
Getting caught up in the past wouldn't help me. I needed to focus on the here and now.  
  
"Um." a loud voice caught my attention, I turned towards a cockroach who looked somewhat nervous, shifting from one foot to the other, and wringing his hands together.  
  
"Right, sorry, I was thinking about what we should go after first." I said, "There are sewing supplies in a big plastic bin in one of the drawers, and we should probably look at to start." I say, pointing towards one of the massive drawers that covered every wall.  
  
"Before that..." she says nervously, "...We have a problem."  
  
She leads me toward one of the sinks, the door under it hanging wide open. The bugs, while I was lost in thought, seemed to have followed their noses towards them and were now clustered around it.  
  
"What's going on?" I ask.  
  
The crowd parted for me, a few trying to restrain giggling, while others seemed to be honestly worried. I walked past them and looked into the space under the sink. There were cleaning chemicals- maybe something to try and get down into the sewer, there were plenty of potential uses -but that wasn't what they were looking at.  
  
There was a glob of peanut butter, lying in the middle of a wide strip of face-up duct tape.  
  
And stuck to that duct tape were two cockroaches. One of them was an ordinary unaltered bug, already dead. The other was... for some reason, I feel silly using the word 'intelligent' for him, but one of mine all the same.  
  
"Please help me?" he asked.  
  
"How did you end up with all four limbs stuck?" I ask.  
  
"Well, at first it was just my feet, but when I tried to pull them up, I kind of tried to brace myself and- well."  
  
"Alright. Don't worry. Just... give me a moment."


	7. Sewer 1.5

I swing the needle through the air, making a _swish_ noise, and then jab it forwards. It weighs almost nothing, but it's longer than I am tall, but I know from my look into the future that if push comes to shove, you _can_ spear a bug with one.

I'm hoping to avoid that particular future.

I take one last look around the Home Ec room, and at the three groups, I've put together.

The first group was made up of the largest and strongest cockroaches and all the beetles. They were in charge of carrying the heavier objects. Popsicle sticks, snack bags, spools of thread, ribbons. They're loaded up practically to their limit, but I'm pretty sure that _relatively_ my bugs are far stronger and have far more stamina than humans.

The second group was made up of the smallest of the bugs and were in charge of easier-to-carry things. In this case, mostly bundles of more needles and rubber bands. As many as they could carry.

And the final group was my fighters. Ferrous was part of this one, as well as the roach I rescued from the peanut-butter trap. Each of them was carrying a needle, but the bin held more than just that in terms of weapons. I remember finding the tiny sewing scissors the teacher provided to be hard to work with last year. My fingers barely fitting through the holes. But as a bug, if you removed the screw holding both halves together they became the equivalent of swords. Not only did they have more weight behind them than a needle, they also had an actual bladed edge. They were also a bit longer than the needles, and too unwieldy for me to use.

"Is everyone ready?" I ask.

I hear a scattered mess of affirmations and agreements before I led the way back into the air vents. I brought us almost up to the point where we would have come across a barrier of light and then stopped. I turned a corner and came to one last air-duct. We pushed it upwards, and the fighters and I climbed out, leaving the others behind.

"We'll be back," I say to them, "We'll come to get you when it's over."

I urged us forwards into the last stretch of the hallway before the gymnasium and its locker rooms. I knew from my visions that if I got any closer, things would start becoming risky. But it was our only way back down to the sewer without braving the freezing cold again. We had no way out but forwards.

Into the belly of the Beasts.

I held out my needle proudly, catching the attention of my group.

"Be ready, " I advised the bugs following me, "they'll be able to drop down from the ceiling, or out of the holes in the sides of the lockers. Keep an eye out around you, and on each other."

We went down the hall, around the corner, around _another_ corner, and into the girl's gym locker. Part of the problem with my particular brand of precognition is that I only get images. Visual flashes of what could be, with a kind of impression of that image's context. I saw our would-be enemies descending on us from the lockers, and from there, sometimes stopping due to something I said, and sometimes not. The impression I received along with those images was that in the visions where they stopped attacking, I said the right thing and when they didn't stop attacking... it was because I didn't.

But my foresight doesn't show me what the right thing to say is.

I led us directly towards the shower, crossing in the middle of the lanes between lockers, all the while, keeping an eye on the sky-scraper sized structures all around us. Unlike the lockers in the main hall, the gym lockers were metal grates, filled with holes to presumably let them air out into their humid surroundings. It also meant that a bug could come out of anywhere, in a massive room filled with dark spaces that they could hide inside. And they could come from anywhere. I knew from my foresight that they could move between lockers with ease, choose where and when to attack from no matter how we tried to enter.

I saw something flash inside the darkness of one of the lockers and stopped. The cockroaches behind me slowing to a halt and following my gaze.

It was then that a small horde of screeching and chattering little white spheres with legs flung themselves at us from a different locker on the opposite side of the hall. They crashed into our group like a wave and then began to jab downwards with their sharply pointed legs. I had to close my eyes as one of them tried to stab at my face.

"Agh!"

"No!"

"Get them off-"

I grabbed it, and without thinking, crushed it in my hand. I didn't have time to be horrified by the sound it made, or the fact that I had just killed a person or the way it felt on my hand because three more tackled into me and began trying to stab their way through the fabric of my cloak and the packed leaves of the insulation.

It actually wasn't half-bad as armor.

I swung my needle to the side, batting them away without killing them, before turning around and doing the same to several that were ganging up on one of my nearest soldiers. Once she was no longer overwhelmed, she could bring her own needle to bear- and stab one of them with it.

I shook off the sudden feeling of revulsion and kept on doing the same thing. Batting away the spherical little creatures, helping up any cockroaches that had fallen, ignoring the sick feeling in my throat that grew stronger every time one of the little spherical monsters died. I knocked another spider- which is what I'm almost sure they are, at this point, considering the shape and the eight legs, -to the side, only to find my spear wouldn't move right.

I began to feel my needle getting pulled away. Narrowing my eyes, I grabbed on even harder, and then whipped it to the side, tugging the bug on the other end of the invisible string out into the open. Then, I leaped forwards with a speed that surprised me and jabbed the spear towards it.

"Call it off!" I shrieked.

My voice rang out through the suddenly-silent room, as the smaller spiders all suddenly froze in place, a kind of shining light similar to the matrix we saw suddenly forming over them all.

"Call it off," I say again "We don't want to kill any more of you."

The larger spider, a different breed, probably, was more humanoid than the smaller ones. They had a large spherical white head with six white eyes, but rather than skittering around on eight legs, they stood on four, which rose out from a large silvery silk dress that they wore. Their other four arms slowly rose up from their sides, held out in the air.

"You have intruded," they said in a deep voice.

"I'm sorry for that," I say, "but we have to reach the pipe," I point with my free hand at the shower I had eaten my way through the drain of as a worm, "And we need to bring all the other intelligent bugs you captured with us."

"We captured no intelligent bugs. If we were able to capture them, they by definition are not intelligent," they say, "Now they are only food."

"The ones who were altered by the light," I say, "The ones from the same kinds of cocoons you came out of."

"...They are ours," they said, leaning forwards until their head is almost touching the tip of my needle, "You may leave if you wish, but we have _captured_ them. They belong to us now."

"...You've seen the humans, right?" I ask, "The huge creatures who store their things in these lockers, and who walk around here during the day? If they discover bugs like us, that have been changed, they'll destroy us. We're taking those bugs you captured with us to the sewer, where we'll be safe. If you hand them over freely, you can come with us."

"We know this. We captured them because we know this. We are the only intelligent bugs, we knew that the stupid ones would draw attention to themselves. They cannot, will not after they are eaten. We have excellent hiding places. The humans will never find us, with the other bugs not there to alert them."

"They will find you." I say, "As long as you stay in this building. When the Summer comes, they'll clean out every locker, and find you. If you're living in the air vents, when Summer comes, they'll pump cold air through instead of warm, and freeze you."

"How do you know this?" the spider demanded.

"She can see the future!" one of the roaches said helpfully.

Although this particular prophecy comes more from my experience as a human than my ability to read the future.

The spider stared me down for several seconds, "You are making light," they eventually said.

"Yes."

"Are you the child of that creature?"

"I _was_ that creature." I say, "I went into a cocoon and changed as well."

They considered this for several more seconds. The smaller spiders seemed to be getting less patient by the second, and my roaches were getting tenser, holding their weapons closer to themselves.

"A trade." they eventually say.

"What kind of trade?"

"Safe passage into the sewer. Words of the future, to help us. And this," they said, reaching up to touch the end of my needle.

"You want my needle?"

"Yes."

"And then you'll free the bugs you captured?"

"Yes."

I close my eyes and look to the future. After a few seconds of effort, I find the answer I'm looking for. I let go of the spear, and they take it and leap away into the darkness. A few seconds later, a shining matrix of light appeared and then shattered on two of the cubbies, and the doors swung open.

Nearly a hundred beetles, maggots, and moths, each wrapped in a bundle of silk, spill out onto the floor. Most of them were unconscious, but a few seemed to scream as they fell, and others were quietly sobbing.

"Come on." I order, "Let's get them free, and get them safe."


	8. Sewer 1.6

"Thank you," the maggot moans, clinging to my side, "Thank you so mu-uh-uuch!"  
  
"You're welcome, " I say again.  
  
"You were the light, weren't you? In the locker! I knew you'd come back for us," he shook his head, "I- the weavers- they-" the maggot eventually stopped trying to explain, and simply returned to sobbing. Without much else to do, I stay there and lightly pat the back of his soft head and sigh, watching as the other bugs are pulled free from their web prisons.  
  
The moths were transfixed on me and seemed to be mostly silent, both when they were wrapped up, and now when they were free. Some of them at the urging of other bugs began to help in untying others, but others simply watched me. The beetles were the most numerous of the group, to my surprise, and the most willing to help when asked. Already some of them had rushed back with the cockroaches to get the rest of my initial group to return with our loot.  
  
"We have everyone free now," Ferrous informs me soon.  
  
"Good. Then I guess it's time to make our return trip," I look down to the maggot, and then look to the pipe I had bitten a way into. I pulled the maggot into my arms, before walking over to the drain, "There are bugs on the bottom, waiting for you."  
  
He turns in my arms and stares into the deep, dark, hole.  
  
"Um."  
  
I set him down, and take a leap to the nearest wall. I scale up the wall, keeping a hand and foot rooted in the space between tiles, before reaching the knob. I climb onto it and then begin to jump up and down on it, making it shift with each impact.  
  
Eventually, water began to spill out of the showerhead, and a good few dozen of the bugs let out cries of alarm as the tiles below start getting hit by splashes of water droplets. The maggot, already close to the drain, is soaked in an instant and looks up to me in betrayal.  
  
"Follow the current," I say, "Treat it like a waterslide. You'll reach the sewer soon."  
  
The maggot hesitates for a few more seconds, before giving me a determined nod, and braving the water droplet splashes all around him, jumped into the hole.  
  
"Who next?" Ferrous shouts.  
  
Another few maggots separate from the crowd and throw themselves into the drain as well, vanishing away. After that, a continuous stream of bugs began to file in and drop down. As the rest of my initial group returns carrying their supplies, I have them join in guiding bugs down the drain, even handing over items for them to carry down.  
  
When the room was almost empty of bugs the spiders began to leave their hiding spots as well. I watched them from my perch on the shower's knob, but none of them moved to attack the remaining bugs.  
  
The one holding my spear is familiar, and has clearly taken charge of the group. It was primarily made up of the tiny spherical spiders, those numbering maybe fifty or sixty in number, with six other humanoid ones like the spear-wielder. Following them, only willing to leave once the only bugs left above the drain were them and I, was a single spider larger than all the others. Their face alone was only slightly shorter than I was tall, and their large body was entirely swathed in silk cloth.  
  
I jumped up and down one last time, increasing the flow of water, and then dropped down myself.  
  
"Are you ready?" I ask the group.  
  
The humanoid one that took my needle quickly crossed the space between us, and gave a deep bow, "As soon as you are, Pale one. Lead away."  
  
I turned towards the pipe as well, and stepped under the shower of water, shuddering as I was immediately soaked. As soon as I got down to the sewer, it would be warm again. I just needed to remember that. I walked up to the edge of the hole, and took a step off of it into the pipe.  
  
The drop is a long one, for a bug, but not harmful considering how little we weigh. As soon as I hit the bottom, I'm swept up along the stream of water and carried along until I'm pushed over another sudden drop. Then, I'm carried forwards faster as more water is poured into my current pipe from a bunch of other connections. Despite what I was thinking, this isn't a water slide at all. Water slides don't push you so fast you hit the opposite wall hard enough to catch you off guard, or send you off of sudden drops where you end up upside-down in the next stretch of the current.  
  
At least it's over relatively quickly. Less than thirty seconds later, I'm sent flying out of a waterfall and into the muck of the sewer proper.  
  
I'm dragged from where I landed by two filter flies, and after I thank them I start brushing myself off and looking around at the state of things. The new bugs were clustered together on one side, taking in their new home with an understandable level of trepidation. And not too long after I'm pulled out spiders start dropping down. The filter flies don't seem to mind pulling them out of the water, even when more and more of the tiny ones start spilling out.  
  
As for the supplies from Winslow, it seems that they made the journey out okay as well. I see a few beetles laying out all the Popsicle sticks along one wall to dry off, and cockroaches piling up all the snack bags and rubber bands we grabbed. The spools of thread were being carried over to one of the flat segments of the sewer underneath a light.  
  
And the needles... were already being distributed. To other cockroaches, and cockroaches only.  
  
"Hey!" I shout to one of the bugs I caught int he act "Pile them up first, by the wall with the other things that have been scavenged," I looked out over the sewer, and spotted another doing the same, "You too!"  
  
"I grabbed them," he protested, "These are _mine_. I should get to say who we give them to."  
  
"We're distributing supplies as a group. I have a _plan_ for these. Don't worry, you and your friends will still get needles," but it wouldn't _just_ be his friends.  
  
He stood up straighter and seemed to glare at me, but as a few other bugs turned to look at the two of us, he faltered, breaking eye contact and slumping slightly, "Fine." he and the other cockroaches carrying needles began to take them to the wall as well, looking for a good spot to set them down.  
  
By the time I'm done, the last of the spiders have dropped down, and were fished out by the filter flies, and have found their own little segment of the sewer, separate from any other groups of bugs, and sat down to dry. Some of the tiny ones even pulling off their silk coats and shaking the moisture from them. Revealing the little black segment of the body where the limbs connected to their oversized heads in the process.  
  
As I watch, the spider who had claimed my needle pulled their cloak off as well, and... I'm pretty certain I can call them 'her' now. There's a slightly feminine shape to their more humanoid body that was hidden under the cloak. On instinct, I turn around, averting my eyes. Most of the bugs here are naked, but seeing one that wasn't _becoming_ naked feels a little like peeking, somehow. Instead, I choose to focus on the progress the ones who stayed behind have made. The piles of scavenged materials have grown significantly. Even more mittens have been added, ready to be made into more cloaks, and it seems that somehow they've found an entire scarf as well. The leaf pile has grown into a veritable leaf hill, and the number of plastic bottles, plastic bags, newspapers, and shiny snack bags have grown so numerous they're overflowing off of the flat areas they were placed.  
  
We have a lot to work with. Even more than I had imagined, after spotting a few lighters mixed in among the plastic bottles.  
  
But even if there was a huge amount of progress in the hours I've been gone, that's definitely slowed. The majority of the bugs have curled up either by themselves or as groups and were just... sleeping. Others were more active, having conversations, eating scum from the walls, or still busily adding things to the piles.  
  
I look over the bugs I brought into Winslow in a new light, and see that they're definitely not as energized as they were when they first went up.  
  
 _I_ didn't feel tired but to carry on without giving the bugs time to rest would be inconsiderate.  
  
Pulling off my soggy cloak, I let the full force of my light shine through the tunnel, gathering the attention of all, and unfortunately waking up a good number of those asleep, "We've brought back supplies and food," I announce, "As well as bugs from inside Winslow. Be sure to treat them courteously, they've been through a lot of trouble in the last few hours. Thank you for doing so well in gathering materials while we were gone. For now, everyone please take this chance to rest, and to eat," I look to the Winslow group, "As the ones who risked the snow and an unfamiliar place for that food you have the first choice of it. Everything else will be distributed among everyone here."  
  
That got some cheerful noises, if not actual cheers.  
  
"In a few hours, we'll begin construction of our transportation. And I'll tell you my plans for reaching our nest site. Until then, please take some time to rest."


	9. Interlude Fire.1

She was startled awake at the presence of another light. A different light than the one she had gotten used to. The moth jumped to her feet, and she wasn't the only one.  
  
Hundreds of bugs turned towards the new source of illumination, and stared in utter confusion.  
  
"Oh!" the voice of their creator rung out. She stared out across the group, and the moth flinched as her gaze passed over her in the process. The largest opening in her cloak was for her face, and thus whatever she looked at was lit up like a spotlight. If you had the creator's attention, you knew it, and everyone else knew it too.  
  
It was different from the fizzling yellow illumination of the sewer wall bulbs, or the beguiling and unpredictable ever-shifting glow of the outside world from the storm drains. Their creator's pale light was _pure_. It was powerful. It was a _gift_ , every second of it. And when their creator in an act of kindness, made an attempt to stop overwhelming them by covering herself with a cloak, she invented a fourth kind of light. A filtered, warm, light.  
  
Now, she had invented a _fifth_ kind.  
  
This one was red and orange, and flickered, similar to the yellow lights on the walls, but... slower. It changed with the breeze, not according to its own whim.  
  
"Sorry," their creator said, "I didn't mean to wake anyone up. I was just testing to see if it worked."  
  
Their creator reached up, clicked the metal cap of the plastic thing she was carrying, and the fifth light vanished. The moth met the eyes of one of her own kind, and he nodded in agreement with her silent sentiment. He was sorry to see it go as well. The moth spread her wings, and fluttered closer. Their creator had already answered her questions when she dared to ask, but not many bugs were as brave as she was.  
  
"Um, miss?"  
  
"Oh! You again." the creator's face turned towards her directly, and the moth stared into it. The light filled her vision, only interrupted by their creator's deep black eyes. Their creator's mouth was not visible, but those eyes were expressive. She recognized her, and was happy to be addressed. Good.  
  
"Can you bring that light back?" she asked, hopefully.  
  
"...In a bit," the creator said, looking up at it, "When it's time to start construction. That it works means that we have even more options than before."  
  
Building things with light.  
  
"What is it called?"  
  
"This?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"...What do you think it's called?" the creator asked.  
  
She thought about it for a few seconds, "Fire."  
  
"That's right," she said, "It's a little strange that you recognize some things by name, but others take more prodding."  
  
"I... think it's that I never saw it before," the moth answered, "I've seen storm drains, and light bulbs, and leaves and plastic bags and all that stuff before. But I've never seen fire."  
  
"Interesting," the creator said, before turning away from her, and illuminating the pile of plastic bottles once again. She set the fire-maker, no. No, that had a name too. The lighter, to the side, and fished another one out of the pile. She flicked it as well, and after a few sparks, a new fire was created, "Good, we have another one."  
  
She set that next to the other.  
  
Feeling invigorated, the moth fluttered over the pile, and grabbed another one. She tried to lift it into the air, but it was too heavy, so she instead settled for tugging it over. Once it was away from the rest of the plastic, she watched the creator as she spun the metal wheel on the top. Sparks were made, and after that followed a flame. The moth mimicked it- and made a flame of her own.  
  
"Good. That one works too. Now put it out."  
  
"But-" she had _created_ a light. She, the moth! And she was supposed to just destroy it?  
  
"You're burning fuel," the creator chided, stepping closer. The moth pulled it away, but the creator simply reached out, and took a hold of it, "please. If you're not careful, you could get hurt."  
  
How could she possibly-  
  
AGH!  
  
The creator yanked the lighter away, turning off the flame, but it didn't matter, because there still was a flame. On the moth's antenna. And it burned. Oh dear it burned.  
  
The creator moved quickly, reaching out towards the moth's antenna, and closing her hands around the tip that had strayed too close to the flame. Immediately the heat lessened, and the moth sighed in relief, collapsing to her knees.  
  
"Fire spreads," the creator said, getting to her knees too, "I'm sorry. You didn't know that, I wasn't thinking. Are you alright?"  
  
Was she?  
  
"It... it still hurts."  
  
"I- I don't know how to heal you," the creator said sadly, "For now, how about you get some rest? Okay?" she led the moth away from the plastic pile slowly, keeping her hands in her own, and towards the cloth pile. She pulled away part of a mitten, and patted it. The moth hesitated, but sat down, and found it... softer than the stretch of wall she had claimed for herself.  
  
"I'm sorry," the moth said, "I should have listened."  
  
"It's fine. We're all still learning," she said quietly, "Me just as much as you guys," she said even quieter.  
  
The moth watched as the creator looked up at her ruined antenna, before sighing, and pulling away to look out over the various bugs inhabiting this stretch of sewer. The light that represented her gaze settling on the largest newcomer group. The ones wearing cloaks of their own. She made her way to them quickly, and began speaking with the only one of their number to carry a needle.  
  
Then, she began to walk back to where the moth sat, the other bug following behind.  
  
"She's here to help," the creator informed, before narrowing her eyes into a glare directed at them, " _Right_?"  
  
"Correct," the other bug stated. She reached inside somewhere in her cloak, and pulled free a line of nearly-invisible thread, and then reached up to wrap the ruined tip of one of her antenna in silk. The contact stung at first, but eventually... numbed.  
  
"Thank you," the moth said, amazed, "it doesn't hurt any more."  
  
"Good," the creator said, before looking at the spider, "Was that... like the barrier you made in the lockers? And the vents?"  
  
"No. Those were spells. This is simply the nature of our thread, and our venom."  
  
"Venom?"  
  
"Only a tiny touch. Dulls the senses, but does not kill. The moth is not in danger, so little is used. She can still move," the bug turned towards her, looking down at her with all six eyes, "Correct?"  
  
The moth stood up, to prove her right, "Yeah, I feel fine. Just... less in pain."  
  
"...Good," the creator said to the other bug, "Thank you."  
  
"Then the favor that is owed."  
  
"Yes, I know," she said, "and feel free to spread around to the other spiders that I'm offering the same deal to all of you."  
  
The spider, apparently, nodded, and began to walk back to its fellows, while the creator turned back to her, "Have you thought of a name for yourself, by any chance?"  
  
"No," the moth replied.  
  
"Think about it," the creator commanded. With that, she moved back towards the plastic pile.  
  
The moth sat there for a time, feeling mystified. She had gone against the creator, had been injured for the first time since gaining intelligence as a result, and then the creator had brought her to rest somewhere soft, and offered a favor to the spider for the moth's sake. Just to make the moth stop hurting.  
  
She didn't know what to make of it. It was too much. All just for her? Would the creator do that for _any_ bug? Or was she special? The only thing the creator left to the moth to do in exchange was think of a name for herself.  
  
Well.  
  
Her name would be Fire. It would be how she would remember this.  
  
Fire stood up, and looked over at the plastic pile again. She was still tired, to be honest. Part of her wanted to just lie down and fall asleep on the cloth, but at the same time she wanted to try and make it up to the creator in some way. She didn't know what kind of favor she owed the spiders now. But she wanted to make sure it was worth it. She fluttered back over to the pile, only to stop when she saw a light floating in the air nearby where she was burned.  
  
As she moved close to the light, she found that it was a tiny glowing circle, hovering in the air. A sixth kind of light. When she turned around she saw that nobody was looking towards it, unlike when the creator first made the flame.  
  
Fire looked for a name, like the creator asked her to with the fire and the lighter.  
  
Eventually, one came. The sixth light was Essence.  
  
Fire reached out and took it. As soon as she touched the Essence, the mandala of light vanished into her body. And she knew, deeply, that she would never forget this moment. She waited for the energy that was now surging through her to abide, and then continued on towards the plastic pile, to look for more lighters.


	10. Sewer 1.7

After the incident with the moth unfortunately named Fire, I've decided to add 'healers' to the list of things to investigate. Although I'm not sure about how far we'll get. My humanoid bugs are utterly unique creatures. Even if we found a veterinarian specialized in small animals, I don't know how much would be familiar to them. It might be that for the time being, the best we can do with wounds is bandage them up and hope they'll heal on their own.  
  
Another thing on the list are the unique abilities the spiders have shown, and whether the other bugs have anything similar.  
  
The way that the lead spider described her barriers as 'spells' concerned me. It meant that basically all spiders had a parahuman ability to create barriers. And with the way I've seen the plantlife nearby the filter fly groups specifically grow thicker and greener and more vibrant, they're not the only ones with special powers. It leaves me wondering if _every_ species of bug has their own unique power associated with them. And if so, what were moths? Snails? Roaches? The different types of beetles?  
  
Part of me wants to stay and help the bugs experiment, learn more about what they can do, but I'm on a time-table. The longer I spend here, the more bugs will wake up down the tunnel without my guidance.  
  
Already, while the other bugs slept, a few bugs that hatched from the cocoons further down the tunnel had ventured out from their home and come across our group.  
  
We needed to get moving. So it was about time we got to work on the transportation.  
  
Of the thousand or so bugs in this first stretch of sewer, realistically only half of them would want to leave. Due to my foresight, I knew this was going to be more-or-less true all the way down. Most of the filter flies who lived off of the moss and algae wouldn't see any reason to leave areas where their preferred food grew. A lot of the cockroaches and maggots wouldn't either, content to continue just living off of the land beside them. But almost all the sewer beetles, moths, snails, and Winslow bugs we rescued _would_ follow.  
  
So... give or take six hundred bugs, repeating, every couple dozen yards. My civilization would outnumber the human population of Brockton Bay far before I reached the end, and those who chose to live apart from my group would outnumber even them.  
  
One boat wasn't going to cut it. Anything big enough to carry even just the starting six hundred of us would be too heavy to float in the relatively shallow water. I was thinking a series of miniature pontoon boats traveling in a long unbroken line like a caravan. For each one, I was thinking a matching pair of water bottles, tied together to a platform of a few Popsicle sticks, or even just regular sticks once we ran out. This platform would be covered with a tarp of ripped up plastic bags heated with flame in certain spots to glue it to the sticks. Each boat would be tied at the front and the back to the previous and next boats in line. Strong bugs with long oars would push the caravan forwards all along the line.  
  
They were simple boats. Extremely simple boats. But ones that would work, and ones we could build. For larger water bottles, we could use rubber bands to hold them to the Popsicle sticks, for smaller ones, we could just bind them with thread. And thanks to the spiders, our supply of thread can be replenished without need for unraveling lost mittens.  
  
More than that, we would send scouts ahead carrying spools of thread who would know how to build these simple boats. They could recruit freshly-hatched bugs, and get them started on scavenging supplies to build ones of their own once they met the caravan.  
  
Bugs could take shifts, alternating between resting, scouting, gathering food, gathering materials, building boats, and rowing those boats.  
  
While the bugs were sleeping, I had already set up the materials for the first five or six boats with only Fire's help. With the help of everyone that planned on coming along, and the amount of supplies we have, I'm sure we could build another dozen.  
  
I wait until a good number of the bugs are awake, and seem to have finished eating, before jumping up and flaring my light.  
  
"Everyone!" I announce, "If I could have your attention. I'm about to show you what we're going to do with those supplies you've worked so hard to gather. I need volunteers to assist me."  
  
Ferrous immediately moves up, as does Fire, despite her clear exhaustion. More bugs start moving as well, from maggots and little carrion beetles rescued from Winslow, to their larger sewer beetle cousins.  
  
And then, I begin showing them how to put together a boat. Making sure the bottles have a cap, or at least a plastic cover secured by thread or a rubber band. Tying the sticks to the bottles. Connecting the plastic bags to the sticks- melting them _immediately_ turned out to be a bad foul-smelling idea, so we're just sticking with more thread -and then pushing the first boat into the muck, and out into the water. It floated beautifully, and could support the weight of a few dozen moths who settled down on it from above without any signs of trouble.  
  
All in all, it took about an hour and a half. But we were just working on one.  
  
Soon, I began leading them to building the second boat, while Fire took charge of another at the same time. This time, with more bugs helping, and a better idea of how the parts go together, two of them took only an hour. Ferrous and a few other bugs who helped with the first three took the lead on the next few, and once the spiders started joining in production really ramped up with their clever and liberal use of thread to simply glue things together. Soon, the stretch of sewer I had been calling my home for the last few days was practically _lined_ with with boats.  
  
Now came the hard part, "Everyone! I know some of you will want to stay here. I am not _forcing_ anyone to follow me," I'll have enough bugs to accomplish my goals by the end the journey there, regardless, "But anyone who wishes to follow me, tell me now. It will be a long time before we can send anyone back, if ever."  
  
Bugs began to whisper among themselves, and I watched as divisions formed, bugs argued, and formed divisions. Just as I predicted, for the most part, the cockroaches, maggots, and filter flies didn't want to come.  
  
When things reached their climax and the two groups seemed to be done forming, I walked over to our needle pile. I gathered up an armful, and walked to the larger group. The bugs that would stay behind. I held one out to a large filter fly, and then another to a roach, and then another to a maggot, who struggled to hold it with their short arms. Then, I continued the pattern. A few roaches in the group already had weapons from last night, but I tried to keep the distribution even.  
  
"I hope you'll protect each other," I say to them, "I hope you'll use these weapons to defend your homes, and whatever you build on your own. And I hope you'll always remember that you can always follow the cocoon trail to us, if you ever change your minds. We won't turn you away."  
  
"We will," said a tall filter fly, one I that I recognized pulled me from the water after the Winslow raid.  
  
I sigh, and turn back to the group who would be coming with me.  
  
"Gather up as much of the scavenged materials as we can," I order, "Anything we can use to make the next boats, gather together in any intact plastic bags. We'll tie the bags shut and drag them behind us."  
  
The next two hours were hectic and energized, as bugs began to climb aboard the boats they helped make. One of the pontoons collapsed, but was quickly repaired. Others found them too crowded, and so three more were built in a hurry. A few other bugs turning towards tying cups plastic bowls and lids to the sides of boats for more space, or riding on top of the supply bags to be carried with.  
  
The longest and sturdiest sticks were handed out to stronger bugs- cockroaches, sewer beetles, and spiders -and they used them as oars. Pushing off the bottom of the sewer, and urging the boats steadily forwards.  
  
I looked behind us at the space we were leaving behind. At the crowds who chose not to follow my lead. Without thinking, I waved to them. Some of them waved back.  
  
I sucked in a breath, turned around, and looked out into the tunnels ahead of us. We were on the move.  
  
"Send the scouts ahead," I order, "Let's begin."


	11. Caravan 2.0

No matter how hard she tried, or how many hours she devoted to them, Rachel couldn't reach every dog.  
  
But she did her best. She set out food, she set out clean water. When she found people trying to snatch them up, or poison them, or hit them, or even just yell at them, she beat the shit out of them and chased them away. She spent a lot of time trying to entice dogs who had exceedingly good reasons to never, ever trust another goddamn human again to come close so she could rub anti-tick and anti-flea poison on their backs. She made sure that the area around her home had shelter for them. Places to get out of rain or cold for a while.  
  
She did the best she could.  
  
But she was just one girl. Sometimes she preferred things that way. But with every dog-fighting ring she broke up, every puppy she found on the street, every miniature poodle being choked and dragged by a leash from someone who should know better, every mutt she grabbed from a dogcatcher, everything got harder. She needed to buy more food and medicine and collars and leashes and toys. Needed to provide more space.  
  
Had to do more work. Scoop more poop. Teach more dogs how to follow commands.  
  
It was obviously worth it. And she wouldn't give up. But it wasn't sustainable.  
  
Joining the Undersiders, as much as they were annoying and confusing and _smiley,_ solved her money issues. At least partway. But it didn't do much for her in terms of workload. Actually made it harder, with the way they occasionally cut into her free time. They wanted her around even when they weren't doing jobs. Which didn't make sense, considering they didn't actually like her.  
  
Currently, she was looking around the Trainyards for more stray dogs. Brutus, Judas, and Angelica were following at her feet. It was one of the places in the Bay where there were fewer people around but plenty of garbage to eat and warm places to sleep. When one of her best-trained dogs turned suddenly, focusing in on a scent, the other two began to sniff the ground as well and tugged her slightly in the direction they wanted to go. She followed them, before reaching a sewer drainage pipe. Ugh. The grate had rusted away a long time ago.  
  
The sewers were always warm. And with the nights getting colder, no matter how much most dogs disliked the moisture and filth, a few would decide it would make for a nice place to sleep.  
  
She ventured close to the entrance, and bent down, looking inside. Already the stench was inside her mouth. But Angelica was sure there were dogs in here.  
  
Taking out one of her spare leashes, she advanced inside, keeping as dry as she could. Brutus and Angelica went in after the scent, but Judas hesitated, not wanting to get his paws wet. She empathized. She would have to wash her shoes extra-well tonight. And probably give all three of them and whatever they could lead out a bath.  
  
 _Nobody_ was going to enjoy that.  
  
The first dog is aggressive at first, but she calms him down, and gives him a treat, and gets a leash around his neck. He is riddled with fleas. Not to mention he had been eating a dead rat when she found him. He either hadn't been eating well, or _something_ in his belly was eating more than their share. She would have to give him worm medicine just in case. She found two more in similar conditions and managed to wrangle both.  
  
Letting out a sigh at the simple fact that the dogs were allowed to get this miserable to begin with, she began to quickly make her way back. Each one of her more experienced partners marshaling the three newcomers forwards and keeping them calm and docile.  
  
Getting back to her home was always a production. Dozens of dogs running up to her, greeting her, smelling her, begging for food, or scratchies, or simply to be acknowledged. A half-dozen toys were dropped in front of her as she walked, but she had long since gotten used to the art of not tripping over squeaky toys suddenly manifesting under her feet. The newcomer dogs were sniffed at, and barked at, and crowded around before a short whistle had the better-trained dogs backing off, and the ones who weren't following their lead.  
  
No need to crowd them. Or spread their fleas.  
  
She hosed off her own shoes and gave all six a bath and thorough brushing, as well as she could without spooking the newcomers too badly, anyway. That was when she found the first of them. The brush hit a snag in the fur, and she pulled away with a silvery-white... glowing thing. She squeezed it, but it was too hard for her to break. Slightly sticky to the touch, it took her wiping it off on a table to get it off her finger. Was it a seed of some kind? A fungus?  
  
She brushed and brushed, and pulled free a few dozen more off of just the first dog. Not to mention all the ones that ended up in the bottom of the tub. The next two newcomers had even more of them.  
  
There were at least two hundred of the things by the time she was done.  
  
She emptied out the tub, and then scraped off all the seeds into a pile. She'd have to try and figure out what they were. If it was a type of fungal infection or something, she'd have to buy medicine for that too. She dumped the pile into a bit of old newspaper and carried it with her into a supply closet, putting the pile on a high-up shelf. One of the few places in her makeshift shelter the dogs couldn't weasel their way inside. She would grab it again later, and try and look up what it was.  
  
In the hectic mess of all the other things she had to do that night, the pile slipped her mind. In the week that followed, she found no other dogs with white pods, so she stopped worrying.  
  
She had no idea yet that they would solve a lot of her problems and cause plenty of others.


	12. Caravan 2.1

"Okay, everyone ready?"  
  
"I think so!"  
  
"All the little ones rounded up?"  
  
"For the moment!"  
  
"Good!" the Leader of the group of fleas announced, "Then I think it's about time we got back to a more mobile lifestyle!" he turned around, and walked to the edge of the shelf, looking down at the floor far below.  
  
The Leader hesitated, however. This entire situation was truly very strange. According to his memories, he had been a normal flea riding on the back of a dog. Then, one day a pale white light flashed past and he went into a cocoon.  
  
And upon breaking out of that cocoon a changed being, he found himself in a strange space. No longer on a dog at all, and surrounded by other fleas just as changed as he was.  
  
There had been a small degree of panic, but apparently he had a good head on his brand-new shoulders, and took charge of the situation. Getting his fellow fleas to calm down and focus on a direction to go in. Namely, off of the shelf.  
  
But as he came close to the edge, instincts he had never had before pushed into his mind and made him feel nervous about the distance. He remembered jumping farther distances as an ordinary flea. There had been no instincts revolving around heights at all. But now there were. Maybe it had something to do with being bipedal.  
  
But he was the leader! He wouldn't give into fear so early in their first journey into a new world with their new bodies. He leaped off the edge, and sailed through the air, landing on the floor so far below without any trouble at all.  
  
"Come on down!" he called back up, "You'll be fine!"  
  
Some of the others seem to share the same hesitance he had, but soon enough they all start jumping down as well. Once the entire crowd was on the floor, he began leading them towards the doorway. Shoving himself underneath, he poked his head out into the colder air, and looked around.  
  
Sure enough, there were dogs. [Dogs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4NI3ASUSlg) as far as the eye could see. Dozens and dozens of them, barking, playing, rolling around, chasing each other. It was paradise. A smile pulled at his new face, and he pushed himself the rest of the way through. Part of him wanted to take a bounding leap towards the closest one and bite down, drink in that delicious warm nectar pumping through every single one of those adorable beasts. But he was the leader, and he couldn't just leave the others behind.  
  
"Come on everyone," he said, helping fleas squeeze through under the door. As the others took in the same sight he saw he heard gasps of awe, and had to stop a few others from jumping off without them.  
  
But eventually, all of them were free.  
  
"Now, I know how tempting this is, but we do not know anything about our current situation," he said, "We need to look at this situation carefully and-"  
  
"Look!"  
  
He turned his head towards one flea on the outskirts of their little group, and followed where her hand was pointing. Then, he saw it.  
  
The human.  
  
The dogs flocked to her as soon as she appeared, barking and jumping and dancing and begging. She nudged them gently out of her way as she made a beeline for the fleas position.  
  
"Everyone, to the side of the shed! Find a place to hide!" the leader ordered.  
  
Everyone scrambled after him as he led them away from the doorway and to the side of the building, hiding behind a cluster of foul-smelling buckets and shovels as they watched the human come closer. She reaches the door without looking down, and disappears inside the shed. A few of the dogs seem to put together a kind of perimeter in order to keep her from being mobbed as she walks back out with a huge bag.  
  
Then, she crosses part of the yard again, and starts pouring kibble into various bowls. The dogs attack the food in a rush, and the Leader watched with interest as the human looked on.  
  
She was in charge here, that much was clear. She fed the dogs, they listened to her, respected her.  
  
She led them, and the shed that he and his fellow lice had woken up inside of was her property. Did she bring them there?  
  
He looked out over the rest of the fleas, and put on as calming a smile as he could, "Okay, everyone, I have a plan. For now, stay here. I'm going to try and make contact and secure permission."  
  
"Permission for what?"  
  
"To feed," the Leader said, looking out over the dogs. He waited until the human had finished pouring out the last of the bag, before coming out of his hiding spot and jumping up towards the human. One bound took him about halfway across the yard to her position. Another bound had him landing on the surface of her jacket. He climbed up to her shoulder, then, and cleared his throat, "Attention, great Lord of the Dogs, I am-"  
  
Something impacted with his chest, and he was sent flying. He bounced off the ground without any real damage, but he was startled all the same. He looked up, and saw the human looking down at him with wide eyes.  
  
"Um. Hello! I-"  
  
She stepped forwards then, and snatched him from the ground, squishing his limbs to the sides of his body so he couldn't escape.  
  
This was a mistake!  
  
"I mean you no ill will, I simply wish to- to-" he stammered, before he found himself being brought close to the human's face. She stared into his face, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she growled.  
  
"I... don't know?"  
  
"Who made you?" she asked, "This is _my_ territory. Everyone knows to stay away."  
  
"I don't know!" the Leader protested, "Me and my fellows woke up inside the shed, on the top shelf!"  
  
She frowned at that, confused, before something seemed to occur to her. Recognition flashed in her eyes, "Why were you on those dogs in the sewer?"  
  
"To... drink their blood?" the Leader said.  
  
She sneered, "Get out. Go back to wherever you came from," she began walking across the yard, coming to fence, "I won't have anything biting my dogs. Especially not whatever you are."  
  
"We came from the shed! We don't have anywhere else to go!"  
  
"You're not from my shed. I'm not stupid. You're a parahuman thing," she said, before getting to the fence and dropping him on the other side of it, "Just get out. If you come back, I'll squish you."  
  
He turned behind him, and looked at the long expanse of snow-covered gray roads and gray buildings. Not a dog in sight. Already, he was starting to shiver despite his fur. He and his band were lucky enough to hatch into a kind of animal oasis in an apparently dark, cold, otherwise dog-less world.  
  
"Can't we come up with some kind of deal?" he asked desperately before she could walk more than a few feet away.  
  
"A deal?" she asked, turning, "For what?"  
  
"This place- it's _paradise_! We don't know why we're not ordinary fleas any more. But we aren't, and we were brought here by... by you, right? There's no dogs out there. We'll starve or we'll freeze!"  
  
"That's not my problem," she said coldly, "I don't like my dogs having fleas."  
  
"Look, isn't there anything we could do for you to let us stay?"  
  
"No. Go away."  
  
She turned away, only to stop and sigh as she moved around a piece of poop she was about to step on.  
  
An idea popped into the Leader's head, although he didn't much like it.  
  
He jumped back through the fence, and darted between her legs, picking up the thankfully dried-out piece of poop as big as he was, he lifted it effortlessly over his head, "We can help you clean!"  
  
She considered him coldly for a few seconds, "I don't want you to bite my dogs."  
  
"We won't drink much! I promise we'll be cleaner than ordinary fleas!" he said, "We can help keep the ground clean, and help feed them, and we can even pick away ordinary fleas like we used to be! Just let us stay!"  
  
She narrowed her eyes down at him, "If any of my dogs get sick because of you, I'm squishing you," she threatened.  
  
He gulped.  
  
"Throw that in the trash," she ordered, pointing at a silvery large can in one of the lot's corners.  
  
He jumped forwards, making it there in just a few bounds, before leaping up to its lid. He dropped the poop inside, and then made his way back to the human, "What next?"  
  
"...Where's the rest of you?" she asked.  
  
The Leader hesitated once again, but ignored his fear just as he did on the shelf, leading her back to the shed, and clearing his throat, "Fleas!" he announced, "The commander of the dogs has agreed to allow us to stay in her domain, for as long as we assist her!"  
  
The human went wide-eyed again as the fleas started moving forwards. She considered the group for a bit, before glaring back down towards the Leader, "You can start by cleaning the yard. If the dogs give you any trouble, shout and I'll come over. If any of them hurt a dog, I'll squish them."  
  
She walked off then, and whistled, gathering the horde of dogs towards her as she moved across the yard.  
  
The Leader let out a sigh of relief, "Okay! Then, let's start. We'll begin by picking up poop and bringing it to that container over there and then-"  
  
"Why are we 'assisting' her?" one of the fleas interrupted, "What's going on?"  
  
"...I don't know what happened to us, my brethren," the Leader began, "I don't know why we were brought here. All I know is that _this_ is where the dogs are, this is the only place we _know of_ where we can actually build a livelihood. And that human commands the dogs," the Leader shrugged, "It seems to me that for now, our path is obvious. We help the human, the human allows us access to the dogs, and possibly information."


	13. Caravan 2.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I forgot that I haven't posted the two most recent chapters on here as well.

Rachel watched them work with the kind of caution she felt was due the situation. She knew that most people- normal people -would probably be freaking out. But the way she saw it, either the talking bugs were telling the truth, or they were lying. And if she found out they were lying, she would squish them.   
  
In the meantime, if they were telling the truth, she appreciated the help.   
  
And they _really were_ helping. There were a little over two hundred of them, and even if they couldn't carry much individually, together they made the yard cleaner in two hours than it had been since she first came to Brockton Bay. They didn't stop at just poop, grabbing pieces of glass she had never noticed. They also found and threw away nails and screws and even fallen leaves.   
  
After that, she filled up one of the little kid pools she normally used to give baths, and filled with with a thin layer of warm water and some soap.   
  
"Go ahead and clean up," Rachel ordered, "I don't want you touching the dogs if you've got poop on you."   
  
Speaking of the dogs, the way that they interacted with them was another reason she wasn't too suspicious of the fleas. The bug-people knew their way around dogs almost the same way Rachel knew them. They didn't shout, they didn't cringe away, they couldn't exactly stand their ground, considering the size difference, but they handled them well. Handled them with _respect_. The fleas feared Rachel, she could tell, but they weren't afraid of the dogs, even though they could squish the fleas just as easily. They just seemed fond.   
  
Part of that, Rachel knew, was because they saw the dogs as a source of food.   
  
Which... she _didn_ ' _t_ like. But she already had an idea about that.   
  
Once the fleas were all clean, she had them begin to clear her dogs of parasites. A few flea-people were assigned to each dog that she knew had a problem, and got to work hunting down their _non_ -Tinkered brethren. She was worried that the dogs would mind the flea-people crawling around on them, but for the most part they ignored them, and the few that didn't.   
  
After that, she returned to the rest of her chores, leaving them to it.   
  
The day passed, and as her usual lunch break approached, Rachel realized that she might as well try out her idea for feeding them. "Hey, fleas," she shouted, "Come here for a second," as they started to gather near her feet, she looked out across the yard, and picked on one of her most reliable dogs, "Brutus!"  
  
As the rottweiler trotted over, she looked over the group of fleas, trying to pick out the one she talked to that morning, but she still had trouble telling them apart. Maybe she could get them to wear colored hats or something?   
  
"We are gathered!" one of them announced, stepping forwards, the voice was similar enough, it was probably the same flea-person.   
  
She looked at Brutus, and made the motion for him to sit. Brutus dropped, and then she reached down and placed her hand on him. Immediately, Brutus began to grow in size, his flesh twisting and warping to make room for new muscle, new bone. She could grow him to massive size if she wanted, but for now she stopped once he was about twice as big as he started.   
  
"...You can drink," she said.   
  
The fleas looked at Brutus in amazement, before the leader of the group stepped forwards and looked her way, "Is it safe?" they asked.  
  
"Probably."   
  
The flea hesitated a few more seconds, and Brutus began to fidget. When she got new dogs she used her power on them a bit, so that the regeneration that came with it might help them with their health problems a little. But besides those times, usually she only used her powers when she was training them, or getting ready for a fight.   
  
It wasn't often she used her power and then had one of them sit still.   
  
"Well? Hurry up! Do you want blood or not?"   
  
The leader shrunk back at her demand, and she felt a spark of irritation.   
  
"...Of course. Thank you," the flea said, finally, and jumped up onto Brutus. Then, it leaned down and bit him.   
  
Brutus had, and likely would continue, to shrug off bullets. If the bite hurt him, she couldn't tell. He turned his head to look at her and opened his mouth slightly, letting his tongue hang in front of her. She reached out and rubbed his snout, the stump of his tail wagging.   
  
The flea pulled away after a few seconds, and Rachel saw the bite mark and frowned. She could barely see it. The only evidence at all were a few tiny red beads of blood.   
  
The flea hopped down, and then turned to their people and threw both arms into the air, "I declare this blood- delicious!"   
  
Rachel flinched as the tiny horde of fuzzballs swarmed up Brutus. She held him in place as he tried to back away, and kept him calm when he tried to scratch. He was perfectly fine with just one, but he _didn't_ like two hundred.   
  
But after a few seconds, they peeled away. Brutus shook himself, and scratched a bit at his skin, but after another moment's use of her powers, all the tiny bite marks vanished entirely.   
  
She looked over the group, "Are you satisfied for now?"   
  
"Yes! We've all drunk our fill, right?" the leader asked, addressing the rest of the group.   
  
The fleas gave various affirmatives, while a handful more jumped back onto Brutus for seconds, but they were back down within a few seconds.   
  
"Tell me when you're hungry again," she ordered, "Don't drink from any of the dogs if I'm not present, understand? Otherwise I can't heal them afterwards."   
  
"We understand," the lead flea said, "Now, what would you have us do next?"   
  
"Exercise," she said simply, stepping into the shed and grabbing an armful of toys, "How fast can you throw something?"   
  
"I guess, it would depend on how big the thing is?" one of the other fleas volunteered, jumping up close to her.   
  
She dropped a tennis ball. The flea caught it with some effort, but was having trouble keeping it balanced. Another flea jumped over to help, and with two of them they held the ball up without shaking. The dogs in the yard went quiet as they turned their attention to the ball.   
  
The fleas kicked off the ground simultaneously, using their powerful leap to propel themselves, and the ball, high into the air. Then, they let go, sending it sailing across the yard.   
  
There was a stampede of barking and yapping as dogs rushed after it.   
  
She dropped the rest of the toys in front of the other other fleas, "Play with them until they start getting tired, then lead them over to the water bowls. I'm going to work on training a few of them while you keep the others distracted."   
  
Leaving them at it, Rachel gave a short whistle, the dogs with the most level of training broke off from the pack, ambling up to her and the slowly-shrinking Brutus. As she led them to the usual corner she used for dogs she was training for potential conflicts, she watched as the rest of the dogs were led around back and forth.  
  
She was starting to have a good feeling about this arrangement.   
  
Rachel began to cycle through whistles and commands, giving out treats for prompt and correct obedience. But about a half hour into the session, she noticed a handful of fleas coming closer. One of them hopped onto Angelica's back, climbing onto her neck.   
  
Then, the flea gave a whistle.   
  
Angelica sat.   
  
"Oh!" the flea squeaked.   
  
Rachel narrowed her eyes, giving a different whistle. Angelica shot back up, looking to Rachel for a target. "Go!" she commanded, pointing towards the fence.  
  
Angelica rushed forwards and the flea let out a scream of fear, before letting out a whistle of its own. She couldn't hear the command, but Angelica turned back around and head back to Rachel.   
  
Rachel put a hand on her hip, considering, "... _Huh_."


	14. Caravan 2.3

They crash through the walls, snarling and barking, and there's something fucking _exhilarating_ about it.   
  
Usually, when she did this, the main thing she felt was anger. She was angry at the men who thought they could do this to these dogs. She was angry with herself, because she didn't come earlier. It took time to find out about these kinds of dog fighting rings. _Talking to people,_ which was always awful and annoying and difficult, because the type of people she talked to were the type of people who _knew where dog-fighting rings were_ and she had to resist tearing them apart right then and there long enough to know where those rings were.  
  
So, usually, when she finally got ready to take down a place like this, she was angry.   
  
But this time, she was just _excited_. She was on top of Brutus, Angelica and Judas at her sides, just like usual. But that wasn't all. There was also Sirius and Kuro and Milk and Stumpy and Axel and Bullet and Ginger- _all_ of the dogs she had given even the basics of training in their amped-up forms.   
  
She couldn't keep track of all of them at the same time, and in fact, her power was burning like a pit in her stomach from keeping all of them as large as they currently were, but that didn't matter. Because she didn't have to keep track of them.   
  
She had explained their goals and she could trust the dog's riders to follow through.  
  
They were a pack. Her, the dogs, the flea-people.   
  
They moved as one, smashed through the wall, smashed through the guards. They could fend off against three dogs- especially when she had to keep double-checking to make sure that the two she _wasn't_ riding were okay, that they weren't getting distracted, that they weren't going too far, but she didn't have to do that this time.   
  
Mixed in with the grunts and screams and gunfire and barking were whistles and squeaky-voiced commands.   
  
It was systematic, the way they shoved down every single person in the ring, throwing them out or battering them to the floor, before moving on. It was over in seconds, and her heartbeat was still pulsing in her ears seconds later.   
  
She climbed down off of Brutus and looked at the ten monstrous dogs lined up in front of her, all of them watching her with excited eyes and happy tongues.   
  
Despite how their bodies had been morphed by her power she could still see that the exhilaration in her was in them, too. She gave out praise and compliments, not just to them, but to their riders, too.   
  
It wasn't just nine fleas, it was a about four to a dog. They had learned to respond to the movements of Rachel's feet, urging them forwards like a horse, so there was a flea on each of their sides holding a medical hammer. The kind doctors used to make you kick your leg up. Then there were two on the head. One near the collar to give commands, and one on the nose to point.   
  
Someone else might have described them like a well-oiled machine, her and thirty-six flea people and ten dogs. But all she could describe them as was a pack.   
  
She began to load the victimized dogs into cages, and then dragged them towards the van. While she was at it, she raided the vaults, the betting tables, and most of the people that had been knocked out rather than sent running. More money to support the shelter.   
  
Then, with reluctance she pulled all the people out. Left them tied up with leather leashes that had been used in the ring. Once she was satisfied that it was totally empty, she looked to her pack, and pointed at the building. "Bring it down. The whole thing."   
  
A chorus of whistles rang out from the fleas, and nine dogs charged, Brutus following the rest of the pack a moment later. They tore down _everything_. Wood, concrete, plaster, they smashed through all of it, puncturing through one side of the warehouse and out the other, until it couldn't stand up under its own weight.   
  
The building came down, now nothing but rubble.  
  
She climbed into the driver seat of her van, trusting Brutus to follow the van and trusting the fleas on the other nine dogs to urge them to follow as well.   
  
It was a good day, but the fun part was over. The next few days would be a mix of heartache and frustration as she tried to break the conditioning the victimized dogs had gone through, treat their injuries and illnesses, socialize them so that they saw other dogs as friends and not sources of potential violence.   
  
But at least she wasn't alone, this time.   
  
The other flea-people were waiting at the shelter when they got back, immediately flooding the cages and coming back out to get medicine and supplies, or to carry away dead pieces of parasites.  
  
It was... what was the word? Streamlined. Efficient.   
  
Rachel didn't just leave things to them, though. She immediately got down on her knees and began going through the cages, checking on them one by one. Which ones would have to stay in their kennels for the time being, which could be allowed to socialize under watch, which had to be carefully monitored to protect themselves, which needed cones.   
  
The afternoon became evening became night. Her only real breaks were to pull herself away from the new dogs to take care of all the old ones, but these tasks too were made easier with the help. She was grateful for them.   
  
It was nearly midnight before she allowed herself to settle down to sleep.   
  
When she woke up, though, it was to a flea on her face. She managed to somehow restrain the urge to swat at them in time, but was irritated all the same, "What? What happened?"   
  
"There's something you should come see?"   
  
She shrugged her way out of bed, and looked up at the sky- it was earlier than she normally woke up.   
  
She followed the flea's urging towards the shed, where she heard some angry squeaking. Had they trapped a rat inside? As she approached, she saw the fleas crowded around the doors, all of them pulling apart to allow her access. When she walked inside, she saw that there were indeed rats, but instead of being trapped, they were being ridden by more flea-people. Ones with... fur that was more yellowish than the brown she was familiar with.   
  
A handful of her fleas were talking to the new ones, something that immediately quieted as Rachel drew near.   
  
One of the newcomers urged his rat forwards with a "Hyeah!" and it zipped up to her foot. She just about restrained herself from kicking it. She didn't like rats. They got at the dog food. And they carried- well, fleas. "Well, ain't that a strange sight," the rat-flea said, looking up at her.   
  
He...  
  
He sounded like a cowboy.   
  
...  
  
She chose to ignore it.   
  
"When I heard that some of our kind had actually gone and made friends with a human, we knew we had to investigate. Seems like the Pale Queen's wrong sometimes."   
  
"Pale Queen?" Rachel asked.   
  
"The light," one of her own fleas said, "The light we saw, before we started changing. The others think that it's what caused it. A bug who glows with the same light has apparently taken credit for it."   
  
"Not a human?" Rachel asked. There weren't Para-bugs, were there? Para-bugs who could make more para-bugs.   
  
"Nope. A bug, like us. Just... shinier. Purrty-er," the newcomer said, "She's been making her way along the silver trail, with a bunch of boats. Taking anyone who wants to with her. But those of us who're faster, she sends on ahead to get bugs ready for her arrival. Makes the process a bit more smooth, eh? She also tells us to tell the bugs to not trust humans."   
  
Rachel frowned, before nodding, "That makes sense. You shouldn't."   
  
"Oh? What about you?"   
  
"I don't trust humans either. It's why I live with dogs."   
  
The flea laughed at that, and she sneered down at him. If some tiny little rat-riding intruder thinks he can come and laugh at her he-  
  
She stopped herself.   
  
"But really, you shouldn't trust humans. Most would probably just try to squash you. I almost squashed them," she admitted, "So... keep being suspicious, or whatever."   
  
"Hm," he looked back down to his rat, and then up at Rachel again, "Would you want to meet with her? I can't claim to understand how she thinks. She can see the future, after all, but I think she'd find the prospect of a human ally interesting."   
  
"I'm not an ally," Rachel shot back gruffly, "I have a deal with these guys. They help me, I help them. That's all."   
  
"Suit yourself. But the main caravan'll be passing by-" he pointed towards the fence, out towards the train yard. Rachel remembered, then, the sewer opening where she had found the dogs. "-through the sewer there in about two days' time."   
  
He led the other rat-fleas in the direction he pointed, slipping through the spaces of her chain-link fence, and scurrying off towards where she knew the sewer was.   
  
Rachel was left thinking. She didn't really have any reason to meet with the Queen, whoever she was, but... these fleas, her fleas, were part of the pack now. If they were created for something, if someone was trying to control them, she wanted to know why and how. But... she wasn't good at figuring things out.   
  
She was intending on revealing her fleas to the other Undersiders at some point. Their ability to control the other dogs was too useful to not use on their jobs. She could make so much more money if they didn't have to _run away_ all the time.   
  
Tattletale was good at figuring things out. Maybe it was time to tell her, at least, so she could help.  
  
Rachel walked over to her room and found her cell phone. Bringing up Tattletale's number, she hit the dial symbol.


End file.
